


I could've spent forever (with you)

by weestarmeggie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Additional Characters Mentioned, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, First Kiss, Multi, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Secret Relationship, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, Winter Getaway, alot of coats, but not fluff, for real this time, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 08:33:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28468335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weestarmeggie/pseuds/weestarmeggie
Summary: It's time for the annual winter getaway. Maybe this year Hermione won't return home broken hearted by a sneaky, pointy faced, pale ferret.
Relationships: Daphne Greengrass/Theodore Nott/ Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson/Harry Potter
Comments: 12
Kudos: 233
Collections: Completed/Downloaded/Read Works





	I could've spent forever (with you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [monsterleadmehome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsterleadmehome/gifts).



> Happy New Year darling. I hope 2021 is amazing and even though 2020 wasn't fab, you were a defnite bright spot. I hope you enjoy this trash - i love you <3  
> Thank you to Paris hilton-always- and to NuclearNik for the last minute beta. Any remaining mistakes are my own.  
> Happy new Year everyone <3

“What do you mean there’s only _one_ bed?” Harry said, _loudly_ , slapping his hand onto the counter of the concierge desk.

“What do you mean we have to _share_?” Pansy protested, her eyes flicking between Harry and the the ever increasingly pale concierge assistant.

Harry turned his glare on Hermione, then Ron — who had been snickering quietly though not quietly enough — and continued down the line until he met Malfoy’s bored stare. “This is ridiculous.” 

Pansy shoved past Harry, ignoring his baleful glare when he turned it on her. “This is muggle accommodation,” she said with a sneer. “What did we expect?”

Hermione sighed. “It’s not a big deal.” She stepped forward and took Harry’s keycard and deposited her own in his hand. “I’ll take your room.”

“That’s wonderful, Granger,” Pansy said, “but your room also only has one bed.” 

“Well then you can take mine, Pansy,” Malfoy offered, and Hermione’s heart dropped to her stomach. 

He strode from the group, coming to a stop beside her, and before Hermione could protest, he took Pansy’s keycard and passed her his own. 

“There,” he said, grinning as he looked between Harry and Pansy. “Now everyone is happy.” 

He’d wrapped his arm around Hermione’s shoulders as he’d said it, and Hermione could feel how red her face was.

The bastard. 

She shoved him off and stomped towards the bedroom she’d inadvertently volunteered herself to spend the weekend sharing with Dra— _Malfoy_ —muttering about sneaky, pale, pointy faced ferrets. 

By the time Malfoy entered the room, she’d already commandeered half of the bedroom—including a beautiful window seat Hermione knew she could easily spend hours curled up on reading—and was safely ensconced in the bathroom. 

Malfoy rolled his eyes when she finally stepped into the bedroom once more and sneered at her ski clothes. 

“What are you doing?”

“We have a full schedule,” she replied without meeting his eye, instead focusing on fixing her gloves. “I don't want to miss any of the activities _Michèle_ has planned.”

He grunted and Hermione was sure she heard him mutter some choice words about _Michèle_ and where he could shove his ski poles, but it was when she heard him stand, cross the room and stop before her, that she stiffened. 

“Granger?”

She swallowed and looked up, staring pointedly at a spot over his shoulder. “Don’t.”

“You can’t expect to ignore me the entire trip, Sweetheart.” 

She met his eye and took a step back. “Don’t call me that,” she said, turning on her heel and slamming the door behind her. 

She wasn’t sure if the heavy _thud!_ that sounded suspiciously like something being thrown at a door, came from their room or not.

* * *

_Michèle_ had slipped on some ice and fallen down a set of stairs, fracturing his ankle and putting him out for the rest of the season. Hermione bit her tongue as Malfoy smirked and gasped dramatically in obvious faux sympathy. 

His smirk dropped from his face when the activity organiser—an elderly man named Jacques, whom Hermione had spent the past few weeks coordinating their trip with—announced that Mattias, who stepped into view at that moment and flashed what was probably a panty-dropping smile to their group, would be taking over for him. 

When Mattias offered Hermione his arm—she’d been gathered at the front of the group—she took it without a second thought. 

Hours later, she realised Malfoy hadn’t even joined them on their excursion when she and Pansy stepped into the bar of the resort and spotted him seated at the bar—sans ski gear—chatting up what appeared to be a ski bunny: young, blonde and wearing enough lycra it was practically a second skin. 

It was only when Pansy noticed that Hermione was staring that she turned to look and snorted so hard she began to choke on the Irish coffee she’d ordered. 

“Merlin,” she said between coughs, “she must be hard up if she’s going after Draco.”

Hermione sipped at her own liqueured hot drink and flicked her gaze to Pansy. 

“What do you mean?”

Pansy waved a hand between them. “Oh, you know, surely you’ve noticed how hung up on his _mystery woman_ he is?”

Hermione’s stomach lurched. “Mystery woman?” she managed to rasp out. “Malfoy has a mystery woman?”

Pansy snorted. “Are you really playing dumb?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at her. “I don’t know. Are you really _playing dumb,_ as you so eloquently put it, about Harry?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” the Slytherin replied.

Hermione hummed and jerked her head, allowing her eyes to slip to Malfoy at the end of the bar, where he now sat alone, before she stared back down into her drink, taking a sip. 

“Well, snap.”

* * *

“Whose bright idea was it to deviate from the schedule I painstakingly planned for weeks and play quidditch instead?” Hermione asked, shaking from the sidelines even though she and Daphne Nott-Longbottom were blanketed by half a dozen coats and four warming charms. “Has anyone even put up any wards?” she asked. 

They’d been watching their friends and family play for close to two hours and at this point, Hermione was fed up. 

She was cold and wet and just _done._

She’d spent two nights lying in a bed beside Malfoy in silence, though she knew they’d both been lying there wide awake; each waiting for the other to say something.

The problem, Hermione guessed, was neither one of them knew what to say. 

Hermione certainly didn’t. 

_Oh, hi Draco. Sorry we kissed last Christmas and made tentative promises as we lay in front of the fireplace, fingers twined together like we meant something to each other. Sorry for thinking you’d told your parents where to stuff their pure-blooded ideology and sorry for thinking you weren't going to immediately transfer out of the DMLE when we got back from this exact trip last year._

No, Hermione thought, she had no idea what to say at all.

“What’s wrong with you?” Harry asked, startling her from her reverie as he dropped to the ground and stepped off his broom. Daphne slipped away when Theo landed nearby, and Hemione watched Pansy drop down to the ground behind Harry. She smiled when her friend stepped up and slipped her arm between the gap of his. 

“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head and jerking it in the direction of the hands. “You two—”

“Finally stopped being stupid,” Malfoy interrupted, appearing from the sky beside them. He flicked his eyes over the bundle of coats Hermione was still wrapped beneath before smiling at Harry and Pansy. “Congratulations.”

“Yeah, well,” Harry said, “when you know—” He broke off with a shrug and Pansy shoved at his shoulder, glancing obviously between Hermione and Draco. 

Harry cleared his throat. “We’ll just leave you two to—”

“You don’t have to—”

“Harry!”

He and Pansy disapparated with a pop, along with every other member of their holiday, leaving her with only Malfoy for company.

“Pansy has my wand,” Draco said, staring up at the sky. 

Hermione watched snowflakes land in his eyelashes and resisted the urge to lean forward and swipe them away.

“And I didn’t bring mine,” she said, wrapping her arms around the coats she’d gathered to herself and turning in the direction of their cabin. 

“Do you want me to carry them?” Draco asked, and Hermione rolled her eyes but shoved all but the one she was wearing at him. She looked at him when she realised he hadn’t put any of them on. 

“Aren’t you gonna—”

“You’re wearing mine,” he said. Hermione couldn't be sure if his rosy cheeks were from the cold or embarrassment, but she knew the reason for her own. She stared down at the long coat and began to remove it.

“Don’t be silly Hermione—” She hadn't heard him say her name in _months._ “—you need it more than I do.”

“I don’t want you to think I chose it on purpose,” she huffed, sliding her arms back into the sleeves and tugging the collar up high. 

His sudden laugh, harsh and bitter in the blowing cold wind made her stop, and when she turned to look at him it was to find that he’d stopped half a dozen steps behind her. 

“What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

She crossed her arms across her chest and stared at him defiantly. “No. I want to know. What’s so funny?”

“You,” he snapped, “everything you do is on purpose. This entire trip,” he said, gesturing around them, “you meticulously planned on purpose. I know you’ve been ignoring me all year, _on purpose._ ”

Hermione stared at him, slack jawed. “What?”

He stalked towards her, crossing his arms—coats bulging beneath them—stopping when he stood but an arm away. His breath blew out of his nose in a white puff, and he looked exactly like his namesake. 

“You heard me,” he grit out.

“You’re the one that left,” she said. “Left here, the department.” She could feel tears pooling in her eyes. “Me.”

His expression faltered, eyes softening as he stared down at her.

“I had some loose ends to tie up,” he said, “I didn’t—I didn’t mean to make you think I’d left you. Merlin, Hermione.” He stepped forward and Hermione let him cup her jaw; she leaned into his touch when he swiped the snow from her bottom lip, resisting the urge to flick her tongue over the tip of it. “I’d never leave you again if you let me stay.”

“Do it,” she said, or breathed into existence, really.

His thumb stilled, and he blinked down at her, stepping closer once more until he was _just_ pressed against her, his arms hanging loosely beside him; Hermione watched his hands flex into fists and when she lifted her eyes to meet his they were dark, pupils blown wide. “Don’t tempt me, Granger.”

She smirked and lifted onto her toes. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pressed her lips to his; their cold noses brushing together startled them both into a laugh. 

Draco pulled back but wrapped his arm around her waist to keep her close. Hermione's mouth dropped, and she glared up at Draco as he slipped his wand from the inside of his sleeve. “You sneak.”

“Slytherin,” he said, smirking down at her as he flicked his wand and disapparated them back to their room. 


End file.
